Amor and Psyche
by evadnekapaneos
Summary: Who would have thought that light can be found in utmost darkness? Canon-compliant Drastoria, set during DH, on how they met. Draco's PoV for chs. 1-5.7, Astoria's PoV for ch. 6. Rated T for (very minor) character death.
1. The Dungeons: To Hear

_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

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 _A/N So... this is in fact one of my very first HP-writings. I wrote it before I'd read much fanfictions and I do hope I've managed to escape some popular ff-tropes. I like this story and really want it to be decent; that's why I haven't put it up for so long. I've reread it multiple times and tried to improve it. Please tell me whether I've succeeded! The whole story will have around 17'000 words and most likely seven chapters (ending shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts), but I won't update again until January. I haven't reread the next chapter, but there's certainly tons of rework to do, and I want to put up some more wintery stories I've had around for some time (and also need correcting, urgh).  
_

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 _Sed identidem monuit ac saepe terruit, nequando [...] de forma mariti quaerat, neve se sacrilega curiositate de tanto fortunarum suggestu pessum deiciat nec suum postea contingat amplexum._

Apul., _Met_., 5,6,6

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Jʼai fait vœu à la Madone, comme tu sais, de ne jamais te voir; cʼest pourquoi je te reçois dans cette obscurité profonde. Je veux bien que tu saches que, si jamais tu me forçais à te regarder en plein jour, tout serait fini entre nous.

Stendhal, _La Chartreuse de Parme_ , 2,28

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 _I_ was a child and _she_ was a child,

In this kingdom by the sea.

E.A. Poe , _Annabel Lee_

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Everything inside him was pitch black nothingness, and yet that nothing was somehow whirling around, not allowing him one minute of peace. In that state of mind that had of late become normality, Draco Malfoy hastened back to the common room. All sort of feelings he didnʼt dare to admit were storming inside him. He only knew that he despised himself for his weaknesses and hated the others for their lack of them. So many years he had spent imagining how glorious it would be to yield power, to hurt your enemies, and gloat in their pain. Now it was possible for him to torture those who were unworthy of witchcraft - not only possible, but actually expected. And he was just disgusted. He couldnʼt stand the pain on his victimsʼ faces, their screams, even when he knew that those in pain would be just as ready to curse him or even when it was some blood-traitoring Mudblood lover. Despite himself, he shuddered at the thought of Crabbeʼs greedy face whenever he could put the Cruciatus Curse on some student who had earned detention.

He came to an abrupt halt. He had been so lost in thought, or rather his attempt not to think, that he had walked straight past the wall that led into the Slytherin common room. He looked around. He was in a deserted part of the dungeons. Those who were to be punished were locked up on the other side of the dark corridor he had been going down. He was alone.

Draco leant against the cool wall and breathed deeply, concentrating on the rasping sound. He had never liked Hogwarts much, but now with Dumbledore really gone - something his father had tried to achieve as long as Draco could think - it had become a nightmare. He couldnʼt fit together his former ideas of how Hogwarts should be with the Hogwarts he was now experiencing although the two concepts equalled each other so much. All the Mudbloods were gone - and he felt nothing. He thought fleetingly of Granger who was somewhere far away - Australia, if he remembered correctly. And yet, there was nothing like triumph, only wonder that she had left Potter and Weasley. The satisfaction that their friendship was not as strong as Grangerʼs wish for safety felt leaden in his stomach.

Draco balled his fist with so much force that they started to shake. He repeated to himself that he hated Granger, that she was gone, that he was rid of her. He forced his lips to a grin. It didnʼt make him any happier. Happiness had become a stranger anyway. He couldnʼt remember what it was supposed to feel like. Sometimes he wondered whether he had ever been happy.

He hadnʼt been brooding over this for more than a few seconds when the one memory that was torturing him for over half a year surfaced once again: Dumbledore, old and frail, leaning against that rampart wall. And then how the curse hit him, threw him into the air, and then the old man fell. Draco had never before thought about death. Of course he had dreamed about how he would kill a lot of people he disliked. He had pictured himself how he would shoot a killing spell at Potter and never have to endure again the wizarding worldʼs adoration for such a Mudblood lover. But it had always been a fantasy, he had never thought about the finality of death, of how suddenly a life could be cut short.

Nausea rose in his stomach again when he remembered how he had got out of the Hogwarts Express this autumn - one year ago he had thought that he would undertake the journey for the last time, then depart for more glorious undertakings. Very glorious his situation was now! He had walked up to the carriages, and there they were, black creatures, something between a horse and a reptile, Thestrals, commonly said to be omens of death. How long ago was the lesson with that oaf of a half-giant when he had stared into nothingness and laughed as Umbridge had degraded Hagrid. Seeing them for real impressed upon him how he had passed a threshold and would never be able to go back to who he had been before. And Dumbledore was not even the most recent death haunting his nightmares.

Somewhere far off there was a faint sound as if of water dropping. Like a cauldron with a leaky bottom he thought dully. He shouldnʼt have thought of cauldrons, of bottoms. Immediately unpleasant thoughts about Longbottom began to pester him. He shook his head angrily. The fact that brainless Longbottom of all people was the admired head of the resistance angered him especially. The idiot was admired, a short time ago Draco had even heard some younger Slytherins whispering about how brave he was. He should have turned them in to the Carrows. That was what Pansy would have done. Not to mention Crabbe who would have tortured them on the spot.

His good old friends, they knew that the Malfoys were in disgrace, and, of course, he was no longer interesting for Pansy, and the loyalty of Crabbe and Goyle crumbled. At least Granger was no better friend.

Now, he managed to let out a humourless laugh that rang through the corridor and froze him to his place. He was left in complete silence. Draco blinked in confusion. The sound of dropping water shouldnʼt have stopped. That was not logical. He strained his ears, but there was nothing to be heard. He grew nervous, suddenly feeling watched. He looked around, careful not to make any further noise. As far as he could see, he was completely alone. Probably he had imagined that sound before. He shook his head angrily and rubbed his cold hands against each other. He had better return to the common room before someone started to wonder where he had been and tried to force some explanation from him that he didnʼt have.

But then there was the sound of dropping water again. Louder. Silence followed during which Draco turned his head in the direction. Soon the sound returned in regular intervals and more muffled. Draco hesitated. This was a strange behaviour for a leaking cauldron. Something like excitement gripped him, and with slight amazement Draco realized that he was curious. It was not likely that there was anything hidden in the dungeons that he would like to see he reasoned with himself. Reason told him to ignore what he had heard and just to return to the common room. But it had been so long that he had felt anything else apart from fear, disgust, and shame that he could not turn his back on this new feeling.

Careful not to make the least noise he crept down the corridor, cherishing his excitement. As he drew nearer to the dropping sound, he grew more and more convinced that what he was hearing was made not by some device but came from a living creature. There were slight irregularities in the dropping, or rather - sobbing. As soon as he realised that he was approaching some sort of being, most likely human, he stopped short. Probably it was some prisoner like in the cellar of his home. His stomach lurched at the thought of the old man imprisoned there. He suddenly felt the urge to vomit and decided to go back to the common room, away from the potentially dangerous meeting with the sobbing creature.

He was already half the way back to where he had paused previously, but he now couldnʼt chase the thought of the man suffering at his home from his mind, and with every step that he made towards the common room, they haunted him more. He slowed down just as a more pronounced sob wavered through the corridor again and dispelled the picture of the prisoner. Draco hesitated, curiosity dominating his mind again and drawing him in the direction he had just come from. He wanted to be reasonable and made a step towards the common room that immediately brought back the torturing images of all the people he had seen suffering of late. Bile rose in his mouth. He turned on the spot and hastened down the corridor again, excitement rising as he approached the sobbing.

When he was sure that he was very near the miserable person, he slowed down, wary to do not give himself away. He only wanted to watch, not to be seen by whosoever made the sound. The dungeons here were not illuminated, and Draco had to use his ears and one hand to find his way while with his other hand he drew his wand but refrained himself from lighting it.

He walked past a couple of cellars. Before every single one he stopped, checking whether the sound might not come from someone inside. Only in the sixth doorway he came to a halt. In this room sat the sobbing person and from the regular sounds he or she made Draco knew that his presence had not been detected. Again his common sense yelled at him to sneak away. He could gain nothing from running after people who were not happy at Hogwarts. Whoever was sobbing was very sensible, far more sensible than he was at the moment, to hide their sentiments down here.

As before with a feeling of recklessness and excitement completely disproportionated to the situation, he raised his wand and silently lighted it. The thin ray of light fell into the cellar, a low-ceilinged, narrow, but relatively long room. And the beam of his wand was directed right at the person in question who was sitting crouched at the other end of the room, the shoulders shaking with suppressed weeping. Draco now saw that it was a girl because of the long brown hair that fell down her back. Also, there were no signs of bonds, so she did not appear to be a prisoner.

He had observed nothing more when the girl noticed the light. The sobbing stopped with a retching sound, and her head jerked up. Her eyes seemed impossibly large as she stared into the light of the wand. She looked very young, not much older than a first-year, but her complexion was of a ghastly pallor. She looked vaguely familiar to Draco and as he watched her he thought he could remember having seen her before in the Slytherin common room. When he had stared at her for a while, he started to feel awkward. The girl didnʼt move, only continued to gaze towards him. He didnʼt know what to say to her, he had never before had contact to a younger student for much more than for shoving them out of his way. He looked in her face and tried to guess what she was thinking. Her expression appeared blank and frozen, and she looked so breakable that he almost feared that any sound or movement of his could hurt her.

Finally he cleared his throat. The girl shuddered, and an involuntary little shriek escaped her. She was afraid of him he realised. It was quite idiotic of him that he had not seen it before, it was the most reasonable behaviour to have. Yet the realisation of her fear calmed the dreading part in him. At the same time another part felt bad, even guilty, for having caused her panic. A further part suddenly scolded him for continually shining dirctly into her face, and he lowered his wand. The girl did not move.

ʻErm, are you okay?ʼ

He had only whispered, but his voice sounded grotesquely loud in the little cellar. The girl still remained immobile. He didnʼt know what he could say or do in this situation he didn't even want to be in.

ʻDo you need help?ʼ

The girl showed no reaction and Draco felt more and more stupid and angry with himself and his superfluous wandering. Then the girl slowly shook her head. Vexation won over all his other sentiments, and he abruptly turned his back on her and made to leave the room.

ʻI know who you are and what you are going to do.ʼ

Draco staggered to a halt and slowly turned back to the girl. She was still in the same position as before, but there was nobody else who could have spoken with that clear, defiant sounding voice. Perplexed by the contrast between the bold voice and her timid exterior, he needed some time until her words reached and confused him. He had thought he might be hidden enough in the shadows to do not be recognised, but this seemed to be wrong and he didn't like this turn. He also had absolutely no idea what he could be about to do, how could she then claim to know it then?

ʻMeaning?ʼ he asked, his anger and returning fear making his voice rude.

The girl finally moved, getting slowly and insecurely on her feet, her eyes still frozen in a terrified expression, her mouth pressed together in an angry line. She did not answer him but continued her staring, shaking slightly. Some of Dracoʼs annoyance dissipated again as she looked so fragile and lost though he was confused by the look of mingled terror and rebellion that gave her the look of a much older woman. His own fear strengthened as he stood opposite her. If there was anything he didn't want, then it was more trouble than he was in anyway. The girl's words had sounded a little like a threat. Draco's hands started to sweat the longer she stayed silent.

ʻYou are going to tell the Carrows that I cried here,ʼ she suddenly whispered when he had almost forgotten his question again. She sounded no more bold, but tearful and broken. ʻThat I am weak. For you are one of them.ʼ

Relief swept through Draco. If this was what she feared, she would hardly report what he had said to her. He was safe. The reasonable part in him admonished him to now leave the girl alone or probably get some information from her he might be able to use, but the same curiosity that had led him to her longed to know why she had been crying. And a further part wanted to defend himself, telling her that he was not like the Carrows, that he wanted- No. He shouldn't think things like that. Too dangerous. Yet, he couldnʼt make himself just turn away and leave her in even deeper desperation.

ʻI donʼt even know your name. I couldnʼt turn you in,ʼ he therefore whispered, wishing to calm her as he turned to go away at last.

ʻNever mind I will save you the trouble of finding out. Iʼm Astoria Greengrass.ʼ

Her voice was cold and defiant again, but as he looked back at her, she slowly lifted her hand to her mouth and sank back against the wall as if shocked by her own words.

ʻGreengrass? Are you related to Daphne?ʼ he asked, more out of the habit of small talk than because of anything else, noting that she seemed to be of an old and noble family. She should not be in much trouble from the Carrows. Her name didnʼt explain her behaviour anything.

ʻMy sisterʼs got nothing to do with this.ʼ

ʻWith what?ʼ he asked back, seeing horror return to her expression and voice again. She remained silent for some time. With what appeared to be a huge effort, she pushed herself away from the wall she had leant against and stumbled forwards, shoving him away as she left the room, or rather Draco retreating some steps when she tried to get past him. He looked after her as she ran back the way he had come from with faltering steps. Slowly he followed her to return to the common room, confusion blissfully covering his more gruesome troubles.


	2. The Dungeons: To Speak

_A/N Haha, upon rereading this, I must admit that it is far from as good as I originally thought. If anyone feels like beta-ing, youʼre welcome. And I almost forgot: I should probably mention that this Astoria is Cursed Child compliant._

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Draco sat with his arms around his knees on the very same remote spot in the dungeons where he had found the little Greengrass before the holidays. Since he had returned from home, this had become as good as his favourite place in the castle. Unlike the girl, he didnʼt come here to cry ─ he hadnʼt, wouldnʼt, sink so low ─ but he had found that the place where she had shed tears comforted him. It was not something he could explain to himself, and he had soon decided that he wouldnʼt overthink it but simply accept the fact that being here had a calming effect on him. Thus, he had revisited the cold and narrow chamber several times since the Christmas holidays, preferring solitude to the presence of his friends ─ or whatever he should call them. He had never noticed anybody in this part of the dungeons and therefore felt relatively secure as he dared to loosen the control he normally exercised over his thoughts and actions. And whenever his brooding threatened to break him down, he could flee to the memory of the girl who had sobbed on the spot where he sat now.

He usually didnʼt think about her. He had observed her during the first few days after he had found her down her. It distracted him from his other worries, and he welcomed that fact. He had been considerably surprised when he realised that she had to be a fifth-year. She had looked so much younger. Also what he guessed was her best friend wasnʼt a choice he could logically comprehend ─ some insignificant Hufflepuff. Who was friends with a Hufflepuff? That was the most useless connection one could have. After about a week, Draco had ceased to pay her much attention. He wasnʼt learning anything about her that would explain why she had cried. And the results of his observation were not worth the risk of getting caught looking at her, either by her or by anybody else. He relegated the girl to the more distant parts of his mind and chose only to make his guesses about what was the matter with her when he was feeling at his worst.

He had thought he would be glad when he could leave Hogwarts and return to his parents for Christmas. He had sat in the train home, squashed between Crabbe and Goyle, both ignoring him like they would never have dared to a year ago. And he wasnʼt even in the position to complain. Theodore, Blaise, and Pansy had chosen another compartment than the one he was sitting in. It had made him feel so insignificant when they had passed by his compartment with a demonstratively indifferent look. He still hadnʼt decided whether that or the disgusted one he had received from Daphne and Tracey was worse.

Back home, his mind had been completely occupied in an even less welcome fashion when Longbottomʼs and the Weasley girlʼs crazy friend had been dragged from the train as soon as they arrived. It was only when he had Apparated home with his mother that he had understood that the girl would be placed with the wandmaker. In his own cellar. They had celebrated Christmas with two prisoners right under their feet. At least the Dark Lord had been abroad, but his auntʼs presence was almost equally chilling. Even without these disturbances from outside, the holiday would have been depressing enough. His father did nothing but brood over his own fall from grace, and his mother looked sadly from his father to him, and he knew that she was grieving the dejectedness of both of them. It wasnʼt even worth trying, Draco knew he didnʼt have the strength to be cheerful for her.

It was not only the additional prisoner that haunted him, another event had occurred during the holidays that troubled him just as much, partly because he knew that it shouldnʼt trouble him at all. He had so internally triumphed when he had learnt that that Mudblood, Granger, had left her friends behind and saved herself. Now he was proven wrong and he was angry ─ angry with himself for believing her gone, angry with her for not having gone, angry with her and Potter for being together. His only solace was that Weasley was ill with spattergroit ─ if it was true. He was not as convinced of that as he had been before. But then, the Weasleys could hardly have fooled the Ministry.

He sometimes tried to relish that Weasley was sick but with little success. If he was completely honest with himself, Weasleyʼs situation was quite enviable. He was at home and looked after by his parents. This was undoubtedly an advantage when compared to being beaten up by the Carrows as it frequently happened to Longbottom. He didnʼt know if he should sneer more at Longbottom exposing himself to punishment over and over again or at the Carrows, who willingly punished him, creating a hero for an otherwise terrified majority. It would be wiser to make Longbottom appear to have changed sides; it couldnʼt be that difficult to shut him up. But his opinion didnʼt matter anyway, not for the Carrows, not even for his friends. If Crabbe and Goyle werenʼt so stupid, they would long have ceased completely to flank him.

It was strange, but the more his two friends, especially Crabbe, made him feel that they were well capable of choosing more promising company, the more he cared for them. For six years, they had been little more than useful servants, stupid but loyal, enhancing his importance. He had hardly thought of them, taking them for granted, trusting their lack of sense for him to always be the head directing their fists. They had become no wiser, but still, they obviously were looking for a new brain to command their brutality. Probably their energy could have been directed otherwise when he had had the power to influence them. He felt strangely guilty for how they were. But their constitution made them very suitable for the new world the Dark Lord was building, far more suitable than he was. Otherwise, he would not all of a sudden feel responsible for them, even be ─ he mentally hesitated, but no more suiting word offered itself ─ fond of them. He knew very well that their loyalty was built on the sole foundation of his rank among the Death Eaters, a position he could almost watch crumbling. None of them was a Granger, remaining with her friend no matter what it cost her.

He inhaled sharply, furious that he compared decent wizarding families with a Mudblood. He had sunk really low, with such blood-traitorous quirks. Thinking such things, it was no wonder he was not respectable anymore. He hardly could respect himself.

Something moved at the entrance of the cellar. Draco froze, even forgetting to breathe. Someone had come to look for him. How could he explain why he had hidden here? Was he being watched? He had always most carefully used Occlumency whenever he was in other peopleʼs company, tried as hard as he could not to let his emotions betray him. He more felt than saw the newcomer drawing slowly nearer. Careful not to make any sound, he drew his wand, having more and more trouble not to breathe. He did not dare to get to his feet, hoping that the visitor would simply decide to go again.

Desperate for air, he at last let out his breath far too loudly. The person, who was now only a short space away from him, reacted instantly, though contrary to his fears, as she let out a shriek and stumbled backwards. As soon as he had heard her voice, he had recognized the girl again. He had almost forgotten that she was a real person living at Hogwarts. She was a mere, for some strange reason, pleasant memory, but he payed her no attention when he saw her in the corridors or in the common room. In fact, he mostly overlooked her, she was such an inconspicuous creature. It had never crossed his mind that she might come back to this place too.

He suppressed the urge to talk, remembering her distrust when he had met her before down here. Slowly, very slowly, he got to his feet, trying not to alarm her with any sudden move.

ʻWhoʼs there?ʼ she whispered just as he had straightened up.

ʻI... No one... erm... no. Itʼs nothing. I just... wanted to be a bit alone,ʼ he mumbled nervously, hoping she wouldnʼt recognise his voice.

She was silent for a moment. ʻWell,ʼ she finally muttered, ʻI came down here, er, yes, just to be alone too. I didnʼt imagine anybody else would know about... would...ʼ

ʻIʼm quite often here lately.ʼ

She gave a little laugh. ʻItʼs my favourite place too. I donʼt get along too well with my class mates, nor the... principal teachers.ʼ

Upon hearing these words, Draco grew slightly nervous. Even though she was from a respectable family, she dared to speak, was fool enough to speak, in a naive and open way about disliking the present situation. If her rejection of the new structures at Hogwarts were well known and he were discovered to be no matter how connected to her, he would be in trouble and, what was even worse, with him his parents. He couldnʼt expose them, they were more than miserable as they were. But then, he had never spoken with the girl before, and despite his alarm at what she said, her voice had a weirdly calming effect on him that he couldnʼt explain. Scared and calm. Draco didnʼt know how he could feel two contradictory emotions at once. But he did, and he didnʼt want this phenomenon explained. As long as it helped him, he decided that there was no reason to question things.

ʻDo you mind if I stay here a bit?ʼ she whispered when he didnʼt break the silence.

ʻNo, of course not,ʼ he managed to whisper back before he had even thought about it, sinking back to the floor while she sat down beside him. They sat in silence for a long time, Draco concentrating on her breathing as if it were some meditation exercise. Like he had been told to do to empty his mind for Occlumency. He almost wondered for a second how his aunt had ever learnt the art, but he felt too comfortable to dwell on it. Why was he feeling comfortable? It was dark. It was cold. No, he wouldnʼt think about it. His head had seldom been so empty since... And the threat of a nightmarish memory dissolved by itself.

After a long time, when Draco in loose scraps of thought almost started to think that he was going to freeze onto the floor, she broke the silence. ʻIʼm going back.ʼ

He nodded, then recalling that she couldnʼt see him in the darkness, he mumbled something indistinct as she got to her feet.

ʻYouʼre not coming yet?ʼ

He was already half getting up before the idea that if she saw who he was, she might panic made him slump back and mutter something negative. He heard her seeking her way back through the darkness and had to suppress the sudden urge to follow her. It wouldnʼt be wise. But he felt like he needed her company, like he already started to think again, making him yearn for the calm, the mental numbness, he had felt while she had been sitting beside him.

ʻItʼs good to know youʼre not alone, isnʼt it?ʼ her voice sounded from the doorway.

ʻYes,ʼ he answered back before he had thought about it. Then she was gone.


	3. The Dungeons: To See

_A/N This chapter takes place shortly after the Easter holidays. And just before anybody wonders, the next two small chapters will also take place in the dungeons. The last (longer) two won't though :)_

 _And to the anonymous reviewer: I'm afraid I'm not that good at romance. There will be one or two cute moments between the two in this story (or at least I hope that you'll find them cute). And maybe I'll come up with some more for one-shots. I'll try, promise._

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This time he was sobbing like the girl when he had first met her. Not in his worst nightmares had he expected what had happened during the holidays. It was not even the torture, his mother had ordered him to retreat to his room and he had therefore missed the first wave of the Dark Lordʼs wrath. Unlike his father, he didnʼt bear all too visible signs of the punishment, although he felt still sore all over his body. But he could have born the pain, after all he had done of late, the physical pain was far more trifling than he would ever have expected before that it could be. He could even bear that he had to watch his parents suffer and to know that his parents suffered watching him in pain. Not even the horror of finding Wormtail, despite never having liked him, strangled by his own hand, the Dark Lordʼs gift, really haunted him though the corpse had looked disgusting. That the Lord gave such fatal presents didnʼt surprise him anymore. He could even have born the loss of his wand. He still missed it acutely, but he liked having his motherʼs with him, it felt like a part of her. But he was scared for his parents, who now were both wandless before his aunt. She had been granted Grangerʼs, but Weasleyʼs and Potterʼs new one had been destroyed. But this still wasn't what bothered him and made him question his whole existence. What truly shocked, deeply troubled, and uprooted him was what he had felt before the prisoners had escaped.

He had seen Potter, and Granger, even worse Weasley. He had suspected before that there was something fishy with that spattergroit, but seeing the sudden confirmation was still sickening. He had seen them all, disliked them more than ever, and yet he wished them anywhere else but in his house. He wanted them to just go, to leave and let him and his family live like before. And when the elf Apparated them out, all he had felt was relief which was _so_ wrong of him. There it had suddenly become possible to restore their old glory, and he was glad that they had missed it. He shouldn't feel grateful that he didnʼt have to see their corpses in his house. His primary disgust shouldn't be how Greyback had lusted for Granger. The prisoners, the one chance to make amends for their past failures, were gone. So why did the house feel purer once they had fled?

It was wrong. Something was wrong with him. He should have been excited for the opportunity to return to the Dark Lordʼs favour. He should feel ashamed for Potterʼs escape, but whatever he tried, there was always that damnable relief. He was unworthy to be a wizard. He was weak, he was a shame.

He had never been gladder before for his refuge down here. He had sunk as low as possible in his friendsʼ opinion. Theodore and Blaise didnʼt talk to him anymore, and Pansy didnʼt even look at him. If Crabbe and Goyle were not so stupid as to need someone to command them around, he wouldnʼt even have their sullen company. The rest of the school had always despised him anyway, so he couldnʼt exactly expect sympathy from someone like Longbottom. The worst were the Carrows, who both had their own cruel ways of showing him their disdain. They both sensed how weak he was and picked him out for torturing those in detention or for reciting how disgusting Muggleborns were, including some personal experience. He really didnʼt know how to comment on Grangerʼs teeth anymore, especially as she had shrunk them years ago and the Carrow woman had not the most correct teeth on earth either.

He rested his wet, heated head on his knees and tried to become calm enough to return to the common room. If he staid away too long, he would have to face some uncomfortable questions. Slowly his ragged breathing turned more regular.

ʻAre you all right?ʼ

Draco jumped as the voice sounded just beside him. He had not met her for a while, but he recognized the little Greengrassʼ voice immediately. Still, shock made him try to get to his feet, panicked that someone had caught him crying.

 _ʻLumos!ʼ_

For a split second Draco saw the worried look in her far too big eyes, then she froze and let her wand fall, darkness returning. He heard her kneeling down and searching hastily for her wand before she scrambled nervously to her feet again.

He had been last in her company before the holidays, these horrible holidays that had everything, including her, almost completely driven from his mind. Now she was suddenly all he could think about. He had been so careful never to betray himself to her, to keep her ignorant of his identity while they were sitting together in the darkness of the dungeons. He had watched her as much as he could without being noticed, eager to know when he might meet her in the loneliness of the dungeons and equally determined to do not draw attention to his behaviour, not his friendsʼ, not the girlʼs. Before the Easter holidays, the thought of her had burnt like a talisman inside him during his daily suffering and abandonment: He would wait - not to see, not to talk – wait only to hear her breathe again. And now he might lose any possibility of ever being in her company again. Desperation gripped him harder than before.

ʻDonʼt go,ʼ he whispered with a cracked voice, piercingly scared that she might go.

ʻYou!ʼ she hissed back, already on her feet. ʻIt was you, who was sitting next to me down here. What a fool I was! What a fool to think there was some kindred lost soul hidden down here. You spied on me, you are going to ruin me and probably my whole family in the wake.ʼ

ʻNo,ʼ he whispered hoarsely, desperate to explain himself or at least to free her from her fear, but most of all he just wanted to hold her back. ʻNo, I never dreamt of harming you. I just... Donʼt go, youʼre the only one...ʼ He broke off, not knowing anymore what he had intended to say.

Neither of them moved for a while, Draco scared of the sound of her departure. Yet, after a long while he could hear her approaching and kneeling down beside him. She lighted her wand once more so that he could see her serious, distrustful expression. She just watched him for a long time, not showing any change in her face, while Draco was torn between wanting to look her openly in the face to show his sincerity and a sudden feeling of shame that made him turn away. Finally she extinguished her wand again, and they both remained silent in the ensuing darkness.

ʻWhy are you here then?ʼ she asked at last gravely.

ʻI... I needed to be alone.ʼ

ʻWhy does someone like _you_ want to be alone?ʼ

Her voice was still tight with distrust, and Draco had to swallow down his unexpectedly rising anger to do not let it taint his voice. ʻWhat do you mean "someone like me"?ʼ

ʻEverybody says that youʼre a... a...ʼ Her voice trailed off, seemingly unable to complete her sentence.

ʻDeath Eater,ʼ he added tonelessly. She remained silent. ʻIʼm still...ʼ he managed to whisper on, ʻIʼm still just... sometimes I wish...ʼ He wasnʼt able to pronounce any of his attempts at an explanation or excuse. He couldnʼt bring himself to say that he wished he could turn back time to a Hogwarts without the Carrows. If ever anybody heard that he sometimes wished Dumbledore back, he and his family would be utterly ruined. He couldnʼt cease to be what he had become, it was the sole bit of protection he had left.

ʻWhy are you crying?ʼ she said suddenly, sounding still very cold.

ʻBecause...ʼ Now that she asked, he couldnʼt remember what he had been thinking before her arrival. He hadnʼt cried because his bones still ached from the punishment, nor because he was slighted by his friends, nor because his parents were in the company of a maniac without the possibility of defending themselves. Why had he cried? ʻBecause I canʼt hate Potter,ʼ he croaked as soon as the realization hit him and before he could think up some better explanation.

She snorted and then was silent again. ʻWhy,ʼ she asked after a while quietly, ʻwhy would anybody cry because he doesnʼt hate? Who would want to?ʼ

ʻIt would be easier to hate him.ʼ

ʻWhy?ʼ

ʻBecause...ʼ He grew angry with her stubborn questioning. It was bad enough that he didnʼt feel like he was supposed to; she didnʼt have to make him detail how unworthy he was of being a wizard. ʻHave you not yet noticed whoʼs ruling?ʼ he spat.

She was silent for some time. ʻYes, I have,ʼ she said then coldly. ʻBut it doesnʼt make _me_ feel any better to nurture my dislikes.ʼ

ʻI donʼt nurture my dislikes,ʼ he muttered.

She didnʼt answer, but instead of going away, she moved into the same position she had occupied when they had met before. Like then, neither of them uttered a sound. Gratefully, Draco concentrated on her breathing, slowly starting to feel almost peaceful. After a long while she crept to her feet again but hesitated.

ʻDo you think itʼs true?ʼ she muttered.

ʻWhat?ʼ

ʻThat Harry Potter killed Professor Dumbledore?ʼ

Draco was speechless for a moment. He had never thought that anybody could take the Daily Prophet serious. He gulped. ʻItʼs not true,ʼ he whispered.

ʻYou donʼt think so?ʼ

ʻI know.ʼ

She was silent again, making a few steps to the entrance before stopping again. ʻWhy?ʼ

Draco didnʼt have the energy to answer her. With all his might he tried to push the image of the falling man away from him. He heard her stepping away again, instinctively reaching forward, trying to hold her back. She was too far away for him to touch her, but she seemed to have heard him move for she stopped again.

ʻYou know,ʼ she said slowly, ʻmy parents never liked Professor Dumbledore that much, and especially since August theyʼve constantly talked about it. They say he had some really ridiculous beliefs and he didnʼt show the appropriate respect to our old wizarding families. And they say that itʼs very important that I repeat all this when asked. But still... not having him sit at the staff table with his silver beard and eccentric speeches... I miss him.ʼ

ʻSo do I.ʼ

Draco bit his tongue as soon as he said it. He was being stupid. An absolute moron. If the Carrows ever knew, he was as good as dead. But he couldnʼt make undone what he had said and some crazy part in him didnʼt want to. He tried to control his panicked breathing.

ʻTill next time,ʼ came her voice from the other end of the room before he heard her hastening away, mysteriously dissipating his panic and leaving him completely tranquil.


	4. The Dungeons: To Touch

_A/N I have already half prove-read the next small chapter, so it should be out soon._

* * *

Leaning against the wall, he listened to her quiet breathing and tried to match it with his own. They had resumed their silent encounters exactly like before the holidays. Draco was glad that she, apart from saying ʻhiʼ or ʻbyʼ, never made any attempt to talk to him. He tended to say dangerous things if she did. Yet, sometimes, paradoxically, he also regretted it. He wanted to get to know her, to hear how she was thinking, how her world looked. He knew so little of her – he had even forgotten her name. She had told him, he remembered the moment clearly, but not the name itself. It was driving him mad, a kind of mad he enjoyed because it kept away far more frightening thoughts. He was still hoping to catch the name when somebody else would address her, but it never seemed to happen. The few times he had seen her in Daphneʼs company, the sistersʼ voices had been far too low, and nobody else seemed to talk to her, nor she to anybody apart from her Hufflepuff friend. There, the problem was that he never succeeded to be near enough to overhear their conversation. He didnʼt dare to ask her directly, afraid that she would think he was spying.

Just as he was brooding over this very problem for the thousandth time, she moved and slowly scrambled to her feet. ʻBye,ʼ she whispered.

ʻBye,ʼ he whispered back, and sudden inspiration coming over him, he added, ʻAmelia.ʼ

She giggled and paused. ʻAstoria,ʼ she corrected.

ʻAstoria,ʼ he repeated, making her giggle again. ʻWhatʼs so funny?ʼ

ʻNothing,ʼ she whispered, sinking down to the ground. ʻJust you.ʼ She was still chuckling, and Draco was glad for the darkness because he could feel his face turning warm. Maybe Astoria sensed his discomfort, for she added, ʻSorry, you are just... well, from what Iʼve heard and seen, I would never have dreamt of you being a... nice person.ʼ

ʻNobody called me a "nice person" before, either.ʼ

She gave a little, warm laugh. ʻBut honestly,ʼ she then breathed, her voice suddenly very serious, ʻyou didnʼt exactly pick the best of times to become nice.ʼ

Draco didnʼt answer. He had thought the same over and over again, to hear it pronounced by someone who was after all a stranger made him fearful again. He pressed his eyes against his knees, trying to calm down. Something brushed over the back of his hand. With a shudder, he hastily withdrew it from the ground.

ʻSorry.ʼ

He relaxed a bit as he heard her and slowly lowered his hand again. They sat in silence until another question that he had often turned over in his mind made its presence known, and after a short internal struggle, he decided to ask. ʻAstoria?ʼ

ʻMmmh?ʼ

ʻWhy...ʼ He hesitated, unsure how to put his question.

ʻBecause.ʼ

ʻWhat? Because?ʼ

Astoria suppressed another snigger. ʻI just thought "Because" is the best answer to "Why". Iʼm sorry, ask.ʼ

ʻEr... Why do you trust me?ʼ

ʻBecause...ʼ She was silent for some time, and Draco didnʼt dare to interrupt her. ʻI suppose,ʼ she said slowly, ʻI donʼt. But... I was fond of the person I was meeting down here, and when I found out it was you, I... I _wanted_ to trust you. I didnʼt want to feel betrayed, to give up the idea that I was not... alone.ʼ

Draco swallowed. ʻBut youʼre not alone,ʼ he finally managed to choke. ʻYouʼve got a friend.ʼ

ʻDaisy?ʼ she asked, surprised. ʻYou know her?ʼ

ʻNo,ʼ he stuttered. ʻIʼve just seen you with that curly Hufflepuff and thought...ʼ

ʻYes, yes thatʼs Daisy. Sheʼs my cousin, thatʼs probably why she is still my friend. Everybody else hates us, donʼt they?ʼ

ʻWho hates us?ʼ

ʻAll the other houses. Because the Carrows prefer the Slytherins, and so they think we all think theyʼre great and agree with them.ʼ

ʻDonʼt we?ʼ asked Draco weakly, her words reminding him of his own dislike of the Carrows for which he had chastised himself again and again.

ʻDo you?ʼ

ʻI...ʼ Draco hesitated. A part of him wanted to tell her how wholeheartedly he agreed with her (not considering nor caring that this was reckless, and he had always despised that quality), another warned him of doing so, reminding him that the Carrows were after all in the right. ʻThey tell us,ʼ he finally croaked, ʻwhat my parents have always told me.ʼ

ʻYes,ʼ admitted Astoria slowly. ʻMy parents sometimes said similar stuff but never so, you know, absolutely. And I might believe it if, well... if the Carrows were somehow not such an example for everything they accuse the Muggles of. You know, Daisyʼs told me about a friend of hers with Muggle parents - she doesnʼt know where she is now - and she said she was always so nice and helpful and neat and everything. I didnʼt know that she was Muggleborn until now that she has disappeared. But I thought she was nice too. I once asked Daphne how this could be, and she told me not to think about it and not to ask because itʼs dangerous.

ʻTo be honest, I envy Daisy. She is so much luckier. She can always go to the Hufflepuff common room and find many helpful people there. We have only a few courses together, so Iʼm alone a lot. I can tell no one what I think. It would cause me problems and maybe my family too. Daisy doesnʼt need to hide down here. I mean, she can trust... when sheʼs in the common room... her other friends and...ʼ Her voice rose ever higher as she spoke on. Draco suddenly felt the urge to calm her down, to take her hand. But before he could make a decision she had stood up.

ʻThatʼs why Iʼve been crying the first time you found me,ʼ she whispered. ʻCarrow was explaining in Muggle Studies how dirty Muggles are, and Daisy whispered to me that these self-portraits were impressively accurate. She mustʼve heard, at least me snorting, and concluded enough to want to punish us. And...ʼ As high as her voice had been before, it suddenly broke down to a rough whisper. ʻShe wanted us to punish each other and we... couldnʼt.ʼ She made a retching sound. ʻBut Iʼve tried. Iʼve tried to hurt my friend. I was so... so disgusted with myself.ʼ

She turned and hastened to the exit.

ʻWait!ʼ

His call sounded far too loud in the small room as he scrambled to his feet and followed her. She wavered, then sank against the doorway. It was too dark to see her expression, and he hesitated as he stepped beside her. Feeling slightly embarrassed, he leant against the other doorpost. He listened to her slowly calming breath, helplessly watching her hardly visible silhouette.

ʻWe could go back up together?ʼ he finally dared to suggest.

He heard her inhaling deeply. ʻI suppose so,ʼ she whispered, after a momentʼs hesitation reaching out for his arm to support herself. ʻBut letʼs not enter the common room together,ʼ she added after another second. ʻYouʼre among the people Daphne has told me to stay away from. I donʼt want to scare her.ʼ

ʻDaphne. Great,ʼ mumbled Draco, slightly disgruntled at this news – but his bad mood didnʼt last long in the sisterʼs presence. With a mixture of fear and boldness, worry and joy, he savoured the way back until he had to leave her at the entrance to the common room.


	5. The Dungeons: To Feel

_A/N I know this is very short BUT! But the next chapter will not only be much longer but also take place in completely different locations AND be from Astoria's POV. It will be set on the evening after the events of this chapter_ – _you'll know exactly what is about to happen during that night once you've read the first few paragraphs of this chapter._

* * *

ʻAstoria?ʼ

ʻYes?ʼ

ʻShouldnʼt you be learning for your OWLs?ʼ

Astoria let out little snort. ʻI _do_ learn. Daily. In the common room. Or the library. Did you never notice me working?ʼ

ʻYes, yes, I did.ʼ Draco was glad for the darkness, as he felt his head glowing. Their little dialogues that they had started to cultivate over the last few weeks usually concentrated on harmless school matters like the small accidents in Flitwickʼs classes. Both tried to avoid anything that might prove dangerous. Yet, Draco had not thought that she might be offended by his question. ʻI just thought, because youʼre so often down here and...ʼ

ʻI need to be able to concentrate to learn. _You_ are going to take your NEWTs and donʼt learn down here either.ʼ

ʻIt doesnʼt matter for me,ʼ he said dejectedly. ʻGood marks are not going to improve our situation even a bit.ʼ

She sighed. ʻCheer up, tomorrow is the first of May.ʼ

ʻWhy should that cheer me up?ʼ

ʻItʼs a lovely month.ʼ

Draco suppressed an angry retort, reducing himself to looking around in the darkness of the cellar. ʻIʼve given up,ʼ he heard himself say to his own surprise, suddenly yearning to put into words what he had hardly dared to think before. ʻWe will never matter anymore. And considering what I would have to be to return to grace... I donʼt want to. Iʼm sick of... everything.ʼ

He heard her sigh as he hid his head in his arms, tears starting to run down his face. He flinched as something touched him, but it was just Astoriaʼs hand. She softly squeezed his shoulder.

ʻIʼm sorry,ʼ she whispered. ʻI donʼt... really understand, but... I mean, all I ever wanted was to have a nice little house and a nice little family with a large bunch of children...ʼ

ʻA large bunch of children,ʼ he repeated, smiling a little despite his tears.

She gave a little laugh too. ʻI know itʼs idiotic,ʼ she whispered, laying her arm around his shoulders. ʻI just love children, but... I suppose Iʼll never have any. Nor a husband either.ʼ

ʻWhy? Just because the Carrows-ʼ

ʻItʼs not the Carrows. Iʼm...ʼ She hesitated. ʻIʼm not especially healthy. Iʼll die in a few years, so itʼs very unlikely that someone would take the risk of marrying me when Iʼm not strong enough to have a child. Iʼd be no good to continue a pureblood line. Never mind, I wouldnʼt want to bring a child in such a world anyway.ʼ

ʻBut thatʼs horrid!ʼ

ʻTo have a baby now?ʼ she asked, puzzled.

ʻNo, that youʼll die,ʼ answered Draco, thoroughly shocked and his own misery completely forgotten. Instinctively, he put his arms around her as if hoping to shield her from harm. Only after he had done so, he became aware how close they suddenly were, almost embracing. His heartbeat seemed to pick up speed, and he gulped, hoping that she wouldnʼt notice his sudden embarrassment.

ʻNo, itʼs okay,ʼ she said serenely. ʻI always knew. Thatʼs why I want to live as peacefully as possible in the few years that are given to me. Even now, with all these horrible things going on, I sometimes dream of my little imaginary family.ʼ She paused, slowly leaning her head against Dracoʼs chest. ʻJust to have a husband who would patiently sit by my side when my strength fades. With our children playing at our feet. Someone who wouldnʼt need to talk much or always run around, just keep me company and never leave.ʼ

ʻHeʼd have to be rich to afford such a life.ʼ

Draco had spoken spontaneously without much thought, but as soon as he had finished, Astoria pushed him away and jumped up, letting out some sort of wail and sprinting to the door. When Draco finally registered that she was about to go, her steps were already fading in the distance. Utterly perplexed, he remained on the spot. He rethought their conversation, trying to figure out how he had upset her. He had suggested that she needed a rich man, could this have offended her? He was rich too, and she didnʼt mind to sit around with him like with her imaginary husband.

Draco mentally staggered. Her description of the perfect husband suddenly offered him a thousand parallels to their encounters down in the dungeons. And now that he thought about it, she had embraced him as she had started to talk about having children. An unfamiliar nervousness gripped him. Could she have interpreted his remark as a refusal? Could she have actually expected him to marry her? He still knew nearly nothing about her, and yet, the picture of the little family circle she had drawn came to life before his inner eyes. The more he thought about it, the more certain he became that she had painted the scenery as an offer to him. He felt confusion like hardly ever before, mostly because it was a happy confusion. He hadnʼt even known such an emotion existed. The idea of a married life started to pervade his every thought. And as he slowly got to his feet, he agreed with Astoria. It would be a wonderful future, a goal to live for.

There was only one way to achieve it. He and his family needed to be in the favour of the Dark Lord again. He would never be able to escape from him, nor could the Dark Lord ever be defeated. The only relative safety was in his service. And for a future with Astoria, he was ready to sacrifice the unnerving scruples that had lately accumulated in him. If he ever came across Potter again, he wouldnʼt hesitate any longer to hand him over to the Dark Lord.


	6. Through the Forest

_A/N And here is the Astoria perspective on the Battle of Hogwarts! Draco will not be in this chapter, but the next (and last) is from his perspective again and has the two united (as you can deduce from the end of this chapter). Two notes: First, the direct speeches in bold are those directly taken from DH, ch. 31 and 36. Second, there is one element in this story that has been inspired by JKR's article about werewolves on Pottermore. So if you find the helpful animal too unrealistic, that's my excuse (and I talk to animals, that's not too weird, right?)._

 _Thanks for reading, and curtains up for Astoria Greengrass, Draco Malfoy-fangirl extraordinaire._

* * *

Sleepy and confused, Astoria stumbled out of the common room. She could see Professor Slughornʼs belly bobbing away far off as she was carried after him by the large crowd of her fellow students. She tried to orient herself in the chaos, pulling her school robes she hastily had put over her pyjamas tighter around herself. An arm reached around her shoulder.

ʻAre you all right?ʼ whispered Daphne.

ʻYes. Whatʼs going on?ʼ

ʻI have no idea.ʼ

As they came out of the dungeons into the Entrance Hall, they saw that the other houses were all assembling in the Great Hall likewise. Steering her sister forward, Daphne squeezed her way into the hall, and a moment later Astoria was made to sit down beside her. As puzzled as when she had been thrown out of bed, Astoria looked around. Nearly everyone was only superficially dressed with travelling cloaks or just dressing gowns over their pyjamas. She shifted in her seat to look at the staff table. The heads of houses were standing a little in front, obviously discussing something. Around them, the other teachers were standing in small groups with several strangers, engaged in what appeared to be grave discussions, but Astoria spotted neither the headmaster nor the Carrows. This was very strange, especially the latter had been in such absolute control over the past few months that she could think of no reason for their absence. Probably that was why they were waiting though, waiting for them and Professor Snape to arrive. It might be some gigantic punishment. She shuddered, and her sister pulled her in an embrace.

Finally Professor McGonagall stepped forward.

ʻAttention, everyone. This is very serious: Hogwarts will be under attack from You-Know-Who soon.ʼ Several people gasped, and Astoria froze in shock. ʻI do not need to stress that we are about to face a dangerous and very likely deadly fight. Therefore we must evacuate the school without further delay. For evacuation you will be led to the seventh floor where there is a concealed passageway out of the castle. Those of you who can will Apparate the younger students into safety as soon as it is possible. Further instructions will follow. There is no time for questions as the situation is very urgent and dangerous. Everyone is to behave with caution and efficiency while the **evacuation will be overseen by Mr Filch and Madam Pomfrey. Prefects, when I give the word, you will organise your house and take your charges, in an orderly fashion, to the evacuation point.ʼ**

Astoria stared up at the professor, unable to grasp the meaning of McGonagallʼs words. She looked over to the Hufflepuff table, searching for her friend to check whether she understood better what was going on. Why were they being attacked all of a sudden? And how could leaving the castle save them? Where would they be going to? Just then a figure at the Hufflepuff table rose.

 **ʻAnd what if we want to stay and fight?ʼ**

Astoria shuddered as the boyʼs ─ oh, it was Ernie, she knew him ─ words were followed by loud applause. She didnʼt want to fight, she never had been good at such stuff. Right now she only wanted to go home. Her eyes filled with tears, and she hid her face against her sisterʼs shoulder.

 **ʻIf you are of age, you may stay,ʼ** said Professor McGonagall and Astoria sighed with relief. She was not of age. And neither was Daisy. Ernie though... She quickly glanced into her sisterʼs face, suddenly afraid to be separated from her. But Daphneʼs expression seemed frozen in fright.

 **ʻWhat about our things? Our trunks, our owls,ʼ** someone called.

 **ʻWe have no time to collect possessions. The important thing is to get you out of here safely,ʼ** answered Professor McGonagall, making tears rise in Astoriaʼs eyes again.

 **ʻWhereʼs Professor Snape?ʼ** someone nearer to her shouted.

 **ʻHe has, to use the common phrase, done a bunk,ʼ** said Professor McGonagall.

Astoria gulped as the other three tables broke into yells of triumph. She still didnʼt know what was going on, but if she could deduce anything from what she had heard, the authorities inside the castle had changed. And though she was glad that the Carrows seemed to have lost all power, there was all of a sudden this new fear: What if all Slytherins would be made responsible for the crimes of these two?

ʻDonʼt be afraid,ʼ whispered Daphne into her ear, and Astoria tried to control her shaking body, not wishing to disturb her sister. ʻWeʼre going to be safely home soon.ʼ Astoria nodded weakly.

 **ʻWe have already placed protection around the castle,ʼ** continued Professor McGonagall when the noise from the other tables had died down, **ʻbut it is unlikely to hold for very long unless we reinforce it. I must ask you, therefore, to move quickly and calmly and do as your prefects** **ʼ**

 **ʻI know that you are preparing to fight.ʼ** Astoria let out a small shriek of panic as the voice sounded through the hall, cold and high. She wanted to look around in terror but, unable to move a muscle, remained stiff next to her sister while the voice filled the whole hall. **ʻYour efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood.ʼ**

As the voice paused, Astoria felt her body starting to shake again uncontrollably, and she felt Daphneʼs similar reaction. Her heart beat fast, too fast, in an irregular rhythm, and black dots began to dance wildly before her eyes as she tried to breathe.

 **ʻGive me Harry Potter,ʼ** continued the bodiless voice, **ʻand none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded. You have until midnight.ʼ**

Astoria couldnʼt see anymore, everything was black before her eyes. Her heart was fighting for every beat against an icy fist that was tightening around it. Harry Potter. What was the matter with Harry Potter? She felt her sister move, so she blinked with much effort, and slowly sight came back to her. She looked at Daphne and then followed her gaze to see a young man standing behind the Gryffindor table.

 **ʻBut heʼs there! Potterʼs** _ **there**_ **! Someone grab him!ʼ**

Astoria jerked her head around to the girl only a few seats away from them. She recognized the Head Girl, one of Daphneʼs friends, standing and pointing. But the man she was pointing at was almost at once hidden as the whole Gryffindor table stood up and faced them. And like a wave building, the Hufflepuffs got to their feet, Astoria getting a short glimpse of her friend imitating the othersʼ behaviour with a fierce expression. Then, the Ravenclaws moved too to stand, all glaring at the still pointing Pansy Parkinson, who slowly dropped her arm in front of all the threateningly raised wands. Astoria looked to the ground as hostile gazes from the other houses swept over the Slytherin table, and she fought back the sob building in her throat. Daphne pressed her softly against herself.

 **ʻThank you, Miss Parkinson,ʼ** came Professor McGonagallʼs voice from the distance, muffled by the blood pulsating in Astoriaʼs ears. **ʻYou will leave the Hall first with Mr Filch. If the rest of your house could follow.ʼ**

Daphne got to her feet, and Astoria let her pull her up with her. Shakily she leaned against her sister as she was led out of the Hall. Astoria could tell that Daphne was trying to make haste, but she couldnʼt make her feet move any faster. When they had reached about the middle of the first staircase, Astoria looked behind herself and saw the Ravenclaws trooping out of the Great Hall.

Suddenly hot tears were flowing over her cheeks. She managed to stifle a moan as she climbed up the stairs after Filch, who could just be seen walking in front of them with Pansy Parkinson strutting after him, arms crossed.

ʻDonʼt cry,ʼ whispered Daphne before ascending the next staircase. ʻEverything will be fine.ʼ

Astoria nodded mechanically. She didnʼt know why she was in tears, but a threatening feeling like she was now walking through the school for the last time in her life had her in its unrelenting grip. Her eyes travelled over all the familiar coats of armour and paintings that had become dear to her during her nearly five years of school. The sense of dread mounted with every step, and she gripped her sisterʼs arm tighter when her eyesight became blurred again.

After several steps more, she felt her sister pause slightly, and she blinked again to see what was going on. They were facing the wall opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, a familiar enough place. Only... only where there had always been a stretch of blank wall, there now was a door standing wide open and swallowing student after student. Astoria had no time to wonder about this strange phenomenon because the students behind them were steadily pushing her and her sister forward. They walked through the doorway and stood before a long flight of narrow stairs.

ʻI can manage,ʼ whispered Astoria before Daphne could try to descend the stairs next to her. Pulling herself free from her sisterʼs embrace, she held her hand a moment longer to regain her balance. Then, hugging the wall, she descended down the stairs, Daphne trying to support her from behind.

After a long while of descending, accompanied by several strange turns and twists, they entered out of a small cupboard, and for a second Astoria forgot the distinct feeling of dread as she looked around the enormous room. There were no windows, but the walls were decorated with bright tapestry hangings in the colours of the Hogwarts houses. But it was incomplete. Green was missing. Why? And where were they in the first place. And what...

There was just one person left in the room, a red-haired girl Astoria recognized as Ginny Weasley, one of the Carrowsʼ nemeses. Before she could ask the older girl any questions or even register anything else, Daphne had directed her steps through a door behind an empty painting. They climbed down a short flight of stone steps, then they were in a passageway, well lit by brass lamps hanging from the walls, the earthy floor smooth. The strangeness of the whole situation amazed Astoria so much that she was distracted from the reason why they were taking this way.

ʻWhere are we?ʼ she whispered to her sister in front of her.

Daphne turned quickly and shrugged before she hastened on. Astoria could hear others murmur in front and behind her, but no individual sounds were distinguishable.

As the journey lengthened, she started to reflect more calmly on what had happened and to conjecture about what would happen. Daphne could Apparate, so it shouldnʼt be a problem for them to get safely home. This thought calmed her enough to digest what was going on at Hogwarts. Without a doubt, Harry Potter was in the castle. She didnʼt know why, and the only thesis she could come up with was that it was some coordinated plan he had made with the teachers. Yet, Astoria couldnʼt see any sense in it; it seemed unlikely to her that they could actually be victorious over You-Know-Who. She wondered where her classmates were. She turned around and tried to glimpse back, but the girl walking directly behind her motioned her on with impatience. Astoria ran after Daphne, wishing to be able to talk to Daisy. But her friend must be further off, the Ravenclaws followed them before the Hufflepuffs.

Astoria tiptoed and tried to look past Daphne. She knew that Pansy Parkinson was further ahead, but she couldnʼt see her now. She couldnʼt see much in the first place. She hadnʼt even seen... yes, where was Draco Malfoy? She hadnʼt talked to him since the last evening, they both seemed to have evaded the other since he had mocked her for her dreams of the future. She had been very naïve to think that he would understand her. She had forgotten that though she might be sixteen now, she didnʼt look it by far. He must have thought her some silly little girl and most certainly never had taken her serious. She knew she should be grateful because he had not turned her in despite all the compromising things she had told him, but still, she felt betrayed. If she hadnʼt seen him yet, did this mean he was further ahead or behind? He could Apparate of course, so it was maybe unreasonable of her to worry. Yet, she wished she could spot him and see for herself that he was alright. Even when he didnʼt care...

She wiped the tears that had built in her eyes away again. It had been stupid of her to think that he might like her. He had never done or said anything to flatter her into such a belief. He only appreciated her company and thought that was how she considered the matter too. She was such an insignificant, tiny creature, he would never have been able to think differently. Sheʼd better cease to think about him.

Astoria tripped. Shocked, she looked down and saw that she had reached some steps again. Nervously, she hastened down where the tunnel opened into a room, and her sister helped her to the floor, closing her in an embrace.

ʻAre you okay?ʼ

Astoria nodded and looked around. They were in a poorly furnished sitting room. She looked back to see more people climbing out of the hole that was, like the one on the other side of the tunnel, behind a painting. There was a young girl in this one though, smiling sadly, and Astoria wanted to make a step towards it to get a better view. But Daphne pulled her away into a corner while the sitting room slowly filled with perplexed students. Pansy Parkinson was winding through the crowd, sending students down a staircase close to where the two sisters were standing. Out of the corner of her eye, Astoria also noticed an old man further off, eyeing them suspiciously.

Loud puffing announced the coming of Professor Slughorn. He heaved himself into the room and looked good-naturedly over the steadily growing crowd.

ʻMerlinʼs beard,ʼ he panted. ʻWell, Apparating, thatʼs what we do now. First-years first. Who can Apparate?ʼ

Waving towards the two girls directly behind him, both busy comforting first-years, Slughorn retreated to the side of the room furthest away from where Daphne and Astoria had positioned themselves. Three students followed the professor, half raising their hands. Daphne made a step into their direction too, but to Astoriaʼs amazement suddenly stopped. Perplexed, Astoria turned around and saw her sister staring at Pansy Parkinson, standing next to the staircase, her wand pointed at them.

ʻEvery Slytherin able to fight, down here!ʼ she said quietly but sharply, slapping her free hand on the banister. While Slughorn and his five helpers ordered the younger students into lines, a small group of Slytherins who had heard Pansyʼs words hastened to obey her. Astoria looked over to Slughornʼs assistants. She recognized one of their prefects just as the girl Apparated away. Slughorn had already disappeared, but the old stranger was still there and met her gaze with open hostility. Astoria shuddered, dropping her eyes.

ʻPansy...ʼ started Daphne shyly.

The addressed turned on her with a menacing glare. ʻDown the stairs,ʼ she commanded.

ʻI should bring Astoria home. Sheʼs too fragile.ʼ

Pansy coldly surveyed them. ʻHow old are you?ʼ she snapped.

Astoria opened her mouth, then looked up at her sister, her mouth completely dry. ʻSheʼs sixteen,ʼ whispered Daphne finally. ʻYou know sheʼs a fi-ʼ

ʻThat means she is old enough to be of use. The two of you, down or Iʼll make you.ʼ

ʻBut Astoria-ʼ

ʻDown!ʼ screeched Pansy, some sparks flying from her wand.

Reluctantly Daphne moved towards the stairs, drawing her sister with her. Astoria glanced back at the Disapparating crowd, catching the eyes of Slughornʼs last remaining helper and recognizing her sisterʼs friend Tracey. For a moment, Astoria thought she could see guilt in the other girlʼs eyes, but then she turned, hands gripping two first-years tightly, and Disapparated. Nobody else seemed to pay attention to Pansyʼs behaviour. Only the old man continued staring at them without showing the least inclination to interfere.

As they climbed down the narrow wooden staircase, someone thundered upstairs. Astoria and Daphne moved to the side, and a young woman ran past without paying them the least attention.

ʻMove!ʼ snapped Pansy above them, and they stumbled on, soon appearing behind a counter. Astoria looked around, amazed. They were in a very dirty bar, the other Slytherins standing around, some looking lost, some frightened, some thrilled. Reason told Astoria that they must be somewhere in Hogsmeade, but she had never entered or even seen this dirty pub before. They certainly werenʼt in the Three Broomsticks.

Meanwhile Pansy had strutted in front of them and scrutinized them all. Astoria tried to do the same inconspicuously, and with shock she realised that several of the students were younger than herself, mostly those who looked greediest. She looked over the assembled students again. She repeated her scrutiny. She couldnʼt find Draco. Startled she sought her sisterʼs eye, but Daphne was staring at Pansy.

ʻWait a moment, Pansy. Weʼre not complete,ʼ suddenly said a weedy seventh year.

Pansy frowned. ʻHas any of you seen Vincent and Gregory?ʼ she finally asked, looking at her classmates.

ʻDracoʼs missing too,ʼ piped up Daphne.

ʻWho cares about him?ʼ snapped Pansy, and Daphne and Astoria made a step backwards simultaneously.

ʻBut where are they?ʼ wondered a dark student who, despite looking extremely uncomfortable and observing Pansy warily, managed to sound like arrogance itself.

Pansy hesitated. ʻNever mind,ʼ she finally said. ʻWe canʼt consider this now. Does anybody know where the Dark Lord assembles his forces?ʼ

Astoria shuddered, but as everyone was occupied with shaking their heads and looking at Pansy, nobody noticed but Daphne.

ʻWe will find him,ʼ said the weedy boy. ʻIʼll take the lead.ʼ

Despite the statement, he seemed to wait for Pansyʼs acquiescence, and only when she nodded, he marched out of the pub into the cool spring night.

Astoria tried to make a step backwards, and Daphne moved instantly forward to shield her from sight.

ʻThe two of you too,ʼ Pansy commanded, pointing at Daphne.

Astoria felt her sister shoving her backwards before she went to the door. Astoria made an additional step towards the staircase.

ʻYou get yourself outside now,ʼ yelled Pansy shrilly, jumping toward her and pulling Astoria roughly to the door.

ʻPansy!ʼ squealed Daphne as Pansy pushed Astoria so that the girl almost tripped.

Pansy showed no other reaction than shoving them forwards, her wand raised threateningly.

The little side-street they emerged into was empty and so was the main street they soon reached. But everyone was heading in the direction away from the castle, so Astoria followed Daphne as she hastened after the other students.

Shortly before the way sloped upwards towards the Shrieking Shack, they came to a halt. As Astoria looked around, she almost screamed out loud, but no sound escaped her throat, something for which she was grateful at the moment. Only a short distance away from them stood two ugly looking monsters. They were both about twenty feet high, and their expressions were cruel and dumb. The air, far too cold for spring, made her freeze even inside, and a look into the darkness of the trees confirmed her terrible suspicion that there were Dementors around.

Horrified she threw her arms around her sister. She glanced in front of the other students. The weedy boy was just greeting a man with a mask who nevertheless seemed to bear some resemblance to him. Next to them stood Professor Snape, totally expressionless.

ʻWhereʼs my son?ʼ grunted a large, hooded man. Some shrugged but didnʼt answer. Astoria noticed a pale, unmasked woman, whose eyes travelled desperately over the students over and over again, clearly not finding what she was looking for.

Professor Snape stepped forwards. ʻYou have done well to come to us,ʼ he said. ʻYour loyalty will be rewarded. Now, those of you who are of age, you can join us.ʼ

ʻDonʼt be ridiculous,ʼ cut in a man with blunt features. ʻThey can all be of use.ʼ

Snape looked sourly for a moment, but soon his expression was blank again. ʻThose of you with advanced Dark magical skills will join the immediate attack led by this Death Eater. Everyone able to duel, join him.ʼ

The man with the blunt features retreated several steps away from the others, most of the students joining him.

ʻThe rest of you,ʼ recommenced Snape, his voice for some reason having become even more bitter, ʻwill either serve as communicative agents between the fighters and the organization that is situated in the Shrieking Shack. The others will go with this Death Eater-ʼ He motioned towards a lean man to his left. ʻ-and prepare a safe meeting point for us in the Forbidden Forest.ʼ

With a movement of the hand, Snape divided the students. Astoria couldnʼt move a muscle, but Daphne pushed her gently towards the masked Death Eater to whom they had apparently been assigned together with some younger students.

ʻWe will undertake our task immediately,ʼ the man said coldly and strutted away without a further look back.

Astoria stumbled after him, gripping her sisterʼs hand tightly as they walked into the darkness back to the castle. At least they could get away from the rest of the assembly that horrified her so much. The few students before them were almost all younger than they, Astoria recognized just one girl from her year. Everything was still very cold around them, but the Dementors kept their distance and seemed even to glide away when the strapping looking Death Eater who led their little group walked past them.

Nobody said a word as they drew nearer towards the gate of Hogwarts. But there they had to stop, for the gate was closed.

ʻWhen the sign of attack is given, you will help the process by firing spell-stopping enchantments at the wall. As soon as we can force the gate open, we will proceed straight to the forest. Any attempt to hinder us, any dawdling, will be punished most severely. Wands out!ʼ

All tried to execute the command as hastily as possible and looked ready while Astoria still groped around in her robes. Daphne carefully pushed her behind herself, hiding her from view. Finally Astoria found her wand and withdrew it. But right now it felt completely different than it usually did, clumsy, like someone had taken her wand away and replaced it with an empty bit of wood. They stood in the darkness for a very long time, and the cold slowly crept up from the ground and steadily consumed her whole body.

ʻNow!ʼ the man suddenly hissed, pointing his wand at the wall. ʻ _Finite Incantatem_!ʼ

After a second of hesitation, the little group imitated him, and they felt the wall shake, less because of their spells but other curses, attacking at some other, more sinister level.

ʻAgain!ʼ shouted the Death Eater.

The others repeated the spell, but Astoria remained crouched behind her sister, who had gripped the wrist of her wand hand and held it down. It came as a relief to Astoria that she found herself thus unable to perform any magic; yet she couldnʼt refrain herself from staring nervously at the man, scared of attracting attention. For once she was glad that she was so small, making hiding behind her sister far easier.

After what seemed to Astoria an eternity, the gates emanated what sounded almost like a deep human sigh and swung open.

ʻCome!ʼ commanded the Death Eater and waved them through. Astoria could feel Daphne hesitating before her, but then she ran past the Death Eater into the grounds dragging Astoria with her. The Death Eater entered after them, opening the gates wide with his wand. Upon throwing a quick glance back, Astoria could see a black mass of people approaching from the Shrieking Shack, the giants following a little further behind.

Her heart started throbbing painfully in her chest, and she had trouble breathing again as they hastened towards the darkness of the Forbidden Forest. Her sister wavered just at the border of the forest, causing Astoria to half sink down next to her in exhaustion.

ʻHurry up!ʼ ordered the Death Eater behind them, and Astoria let her sister drag her into the shadows of the trees.

ʻLight your wands!ʼ screamed the man behind them.

Slowly lights appeared around them, and the man strode past them and took over the lead. From the looks that the others shared, Astoria knew that they, like herself, felt queasy upon this particular breach of the school rules. Students were not allowed in here. It was dangerous. But nobody dared to raise their voices, and they all hastily stumbled after the Death Eater, who marched on without keeping to any path. He didnʼt show hesitation or stopped for orientation but walked straight ahead, blowing most of the lighter shrubs out of his way. They were making much noise, too much noise, that was even louder as the forest seemed to sleep.

ʻAstoria, listen!ʼ whispered Daphne suddenly, bending down so that she could speak in her sisterʼs ear. ʻAs soon as there is some commotion or anything, I will push you back hard. Fall to the ground and take yourself much time getting to your feet. Then, when you canʼt see any of us anymore, you walk back the way we came, out of the forest to the village. Understand?ʼ

Astoria looked up at her sister, whose features seemed oddly distorted in the light of her wand. There were a thousand reasons dancing around in Astoriaʼs head why this sounded like a very bad plan, but no coherent sentence formed itself. Daphne shook her and Astoria managed to nod.

ʻTake care that nobody sees you,ʼ her sister whispered on. ʻBest go to the haberdashery that friend of Aunt Lucinaʼs runs. Iʼm sure, there youʼre safe. Got it?ʼ

Astoria nodded again, her mind too numb to protest, hardly managing to process more than the bare meaning of her sisterʼs words. They walked on for some more minutes, Astoria too tired to think of anything but putting one foot before the other, Daphne always looking around nervously.

Suddenly there were cracking sounds all around them. The Death Eater stopped abruptly and raised his wand, the others imitating him. Looking around, they saw that they were surrounded by centaurs, all looking impossibly fierce and furious.

ʻYou have no business in the forest,ʼ said a grey centaur harshly. ʻYou-ʼ

There was a jet of green light, and the centaur toppled to the ground. All the centaurs screamed out loud, drowning Astoriaʼs shriek. Before she could think of anything else, Daphne had pushed her hard to the ground and run away from her to be nearer to the rest of the group.

ʻThis will happen to every single one of you if you dare to stand in the way of the Dark Lord,ʼ screamed the Death Eater, a fiery circle barging at any centaur that tried to get near them. One tried to jump through the flames, but they caught him midair and threw him back into the trees. ʻWe march on!ʼ

Lying trembling on the floor, Astoria felt the ground shake from the hooves that assembled a short distance away from her. Slowly darkness fell around her as her own group resumed its way. Her heart beat fast and irregularly, making it very hard and painful for her to draw breath. She could hear the centaurs argue, then pass by a short distance from her, dragging a large body with them that could only be their fallen kin. They didnʼt notice her, and she lay on the ground, staring into the darkness with wide eyes. The centaur had died. Just like that. Trivially. Banally. And she didnʼt know what she should feel, as everything in her was just empty.

After a long while, when nothing else happened and the clatter of hooves died away slowly, she succeeded in remembering what she was supposed to do and consequently in heaving herself into a sitting position. It was completely dark around her. She crawled several feet into the direction she guessed they had come from until she found the trunk of a tree. Using it for support, she slowly stood up.

ʻ _Lumos_!ʼ

Everything was quiet around her. Trying to ignore her feelings of insecurity and vulnerability, she staggered away, her path clearly indicated by the destruction the Death Eater had caused on their way hither. She had not walked far when she thought she heard someone coming. She hastily Noxed her wand and tried to walk quietly on by feeling her way through the darkness. Something light with hooves approached slowly the spot where she was. Only able to think of outraged centaurs, Astoria hurried in the opposite direction, acutely aware that she made more than enough noise to be heard by anyone nearby. After some moments the hooves followed her, making her retreat even more hastily. Too loud, she was being too loud. She forced herself to stand still and listen. There was complete silence.

ʻ _Lumos_!ʼ she murmured again.

The beam of her wand fell onto an elegant, brightly white creature, looking much like a delicate horse only that it had a horn on its forehead. Astoria automatically smiled in delight, but just as she made a step towards the animal, it threw back its head and quickly disappeared into the darkness. Saddened, Astoria stared at the trees where the animal had disappeared. Then she looked around more widely. She turned on the spot. She held her wand high and lighted into every direction. Finally she had to admit the truth to herself: she had no idea where she was.

Tentatively she retreated several steps into the direction where she had come from, staring desperately into the black shadows, but she couldnʼt discern any sign of the path of destruction their march into the forest had caused. She felt that she started to panic, and, to suppress it, she resolutely walked into the direction where she thought there was less vegetation.

Soon she had to stop again when her path ended in dense thorn bushes. She walked back where she had come from and tried a different route. This repeated itself several times, and soon Astoria was in desperation. Her heart sped up again and her sight turned black. Finally it got too bad for her to remain on her legs, and she leant against a tree, slowly sinking to the ground. Arms around her legs, holding her wand only loosely, she laid her head on her knees and started to sob.

She didnʼt know how long she had been crying when she felt that she was being watched. She squinted into the darkness and slowly raised her wand that had been uselessly illuminating the forest floor. Something big moved towards her, and Astoria pressed her wandfree hand to her chest where her heart was thudding jumpily. Slowly the creature emerged into the light of her wand, and for a second Astoriaʼs heart seemed to stop to beat completely. A large wolf was standing before her.

Immediately the horror stories of werewolves living in the forest sprang to Astoriaʼs mind, and she didnʼt dare to breathe while she stared at the wolf. The creature wagged its tail undecidedly, and the sight of this brought back some sense to Astoriaʼs mind. The tail was elegant and sleek, making her remember a passage in her text book where the werewolfʼs tufted tail was described in detail. Furthermore, she was quite convinced that it wasnʼt full moon. The relief didnʼt last very long. Even if this was but an ordinary wolf, Astoria couldnʼt remember one single spell that might protect her against such a beast.

The wolf slowly stepped towards her until Astoria could clearly discern its pupils. The wolf sank on its hind legs and softly brushed Astoriaʼs forehead with its snout.

ʻStop this,ʼ muttered Astoria, but she spontaneously smiled as she tried to push the wolfʼs head away, her fear diminishing at the unexpected gentleness. The wolf edged away a bit and seemed to look at her questioningly.

ʻHow are you?ʼ whispered Astoria, affection rising towards the animal that didnʼt betray any sign of hostility. The wolf continued to look at her as if puzzled, and she smiled at it.

ʻIʼm lost,ʼ she murmured to the wolf. ʻAnd my sister is gone with some man who might harm her if he finds out she has sent me away. And then, when You-Know-Who has killed all the teachers at Hogwarts, they will all be replaced by the Carrows and similar, and they will all hate me because Iʼm not there, helping them kill all those people at Hogwarts, and then what will they do to me? To Daphne? To Mum and Dad?ʼ

The wolf gazed at her as if it were concerned, before it lay down on the floor and put its head on Astoriaʼs knees. She bent over the wolf and started to stroke it, burying her face in its warm, thick fur. After a while she spoke again, glad to have someone to entrust with all that was worrying her. ʻI wonder where Draco is?ʼ

The wolf let out a small yelping sound and Astoria patted its back. ʻHe hasnʼt come out of the castle with everyone else,ʼ she explained to the wolf. ʻIʼm certain of it, because Pansy hasnʼt seen him and she would have seen him as she was right in front of everyone and watched us closely. So he must have stayed in the castle. That means he joined those fighting You-Know-Who. Isnʼt that incredibly brave?ʼ

The wolf gave some kind of sneeze as Astoria laid her head on its shoulders. ʻI really do hope theyʼll make it in the castle,ʼ she continued enlightening the wolf. ʻBut then... you know, they have giants, and all those Dementors... They are so horrid, and then Daphne had to go with them. And I hope Dracoʼs okay. Even if he doesnʼt... I mean Iʼm just a little girl for him, thatʼs logical, but still... I do hope heʼs fine... ever since I first met him, I knew that he is a very good person. If only he liked me better, that would be nice. I hope no one gets hurt...ʼ

She murmured on for some time, her head comfortably placed on the wolfʼs shoulders, until she glided over into a deep slumber.

She woke with a start, completely oblivious to how much time had passed, when her sleep was interrupted by loud sounds only a short distance away from where she was sitting. Disoriented, she lifted her head from her furry pillow that rose with her. The wolf sat up and turned its head towards the noise.

ʻWhatʼs going on?ʼ asked Astoria, but of course she received no answer from her new friend. Astoria got to her feet and looked around. It was still dark though slightly less absolutely than it had been when she had fallen asleep.

ʻI wonder whatʼs happening,ʼ Astoria told the wolf. ʻI wish I could get out of the forest, but I think Iʼd rather not meet those people making all that noise.ʼ

The wolf let out a soft yelp and walked away several steps. Then it stopped. Astoria remained standing, listening to the sound of many people marching rudely through the forest. The wolf trotted back to her and brushed her hand with its snout. Without looking, she put her hand on the animalʼs head. It started to walk away again and her hand slipped off, causing the beast to pause. It produced another yelp, and finally Astoria turned to it.

ʻYes?ʼ she whispered.

The wolf ran to her and started pushing her softly forwards with its head.

ʻDo you know the way out?ʼ said Astoria, and she could faintly see the wolf wagging its tail. She reached out and laid her hand on the wolfʼs head again.

This time, when the wolf slunk forward, she followed, keeping in close contact to the animal, drawing comfort from its presence. She could still hear the noise that had woken her in the first place, but it didnʼt come nearer; instead, Astoria had the feeling that they were walking parallel to it. As they proceeded, their surroundings grew lighter and soon she could look up through the trees into the grey sky. They were going upwards and further away from the other group and she wondered briefly whereto they were going. Then a commotion could be heard among those who made their way noisily through the forest, but she was too far off to perceive anything distinct. The wolf hesitated and slowed down. They had not gone far when a voice reached back to them, so loud that for a second she thought it came from right beside her. They both jumped and Astoria threw her arms around the wolf, trembling violently.

 **ʻHarry Potter is dead,ʼ** declared the cold, cruel voice. **ʻHe was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone. The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war. Anyone who continues to resist, man, woman or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle, now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live, and be forgiven and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.ʼ**

Astoria and the wolf remained crouched on the forest ground long after the voice had stopped speaking. Only when the wolf shook its head energetically did Astoria let go of it and sink to the ground. She stared at her fingers that looked ghastly pale on the rotten leaves in the shadowy light of the early morning. She looked ahead where the forest grew lighter and then sighed.

ʻWhat am I to do?ʼ she asked the wolf. ʻI suppose the most sensible thing would be to sneak out and follow those people over there and pretend to have always been with them, but... I hope Daphne is safely with them at least. Oh, imagine how horrible, all those poor people in the castle! Do you think they will surrender? And poor Harry Potter! Do you think he actually tried to flee?ʼ

The wolf didnʼt react to her words but remained sitting crouched next to her. She sadly patted its flank. ʻIf they would only surrender, then nobody would die. Or do you think heʼs lying? I hope Draco is all right. What do you think he will do?ʼ

The wolf looked at her in what she thought was a curious manner. She could hear hooves a short distance away.

ʻLetʼs at least see whatʼs going on,ʼ she whispered with some hesitation to the wolf and got to her feet. Reluctantly the wolf approached the border of the forest. Astoria only had to go a short distance, then she had a clear view of the castle. She was standing on the edge of the forest where the ground was a little raised, quite near to the gates that led into the grounds. They were lying on the ground, broken, and around them a large mass of people had assembled. Astoria registered this, realising that she couldnʼt follow Daphneʼs order, as she couldnʼt get past this crowd unseen.

She looked over to the castle. There was a lot of noise, but she was too far off to hear anything distinctly. The Death Eaters had assembled before the Entrance Hall, she could see the two giants towering over everything. Somewhere in the crowd, her sister must be. Astoria squinted, but she couldnʼt make out anything concrete. The persons coming from the hall were more clearly visible as they were illuminated by the light streaming from the Entrance Hall. She could see a lonely figure standing between the two groups but had no idea who it could be. She only hoped it wasnʼt Draco.

The wolf suddenly growled. Astoria looked down at it in wonder, but then there was bedlam everywhere. Surprised, Astoria crouched down and covered her ears before she dared to turn her head to the assembly again. From the parts of the forest nearer to the castle, centaurs came galloping. The crowd waiting at the gate ran against the Death Eaters. Astoria could make out a bulbous figure in emerald green leading them. The giants screamed out loud and grabbed into the empty air while a smaller giant boxed and kicked them, supported by centaurs showering arrows against them. Meanwhile, most of those priorly before the Entrance Hall had run into the castle, and soon only the giants remained.

Astoria nervously wrenched her fingers through her hair full of dead leaves and dirt while she witnessed these events. She did not at all understand what was happening, but the giants were frightening to behold. Yet, their fight lasted not as long as it had looked at first. For though the two large giants were diverted by what Astoria identified after some confusion as a hippogriff and some other unseen force in the air, they seemed to be quite a match for the smaller giant. But then ─ the first rays of the sun just bathed the whole scenery in a glorious light ─ such a loud clamour rose from within the castle that Astoria completely forgot about the giants and just stared at the entrance to the castle, scared what might have caused such an uproar. A vast mass of people ran chaotically out on the lawn, the big giants let go of their adversary, and several people fled from the grounds with them.

Astoria didnʼt understand. She sat down right at the border of the forest with the wolf beside her.

ʻWhat do you think has happened?ʼ she finally asked the wolf, getting no answer like always. ʻDo you understand this? The large giants were You-Know-Whoʼs and he said he had won, didnʼt he? But now they flee. Itʼs strange. I wonder whatʼs going on. Do you think Daphne is in the castle or is she among those who ran away? Something strange has happened, Iʼm sure of it.ʼ

Stroking the wolf, she squinted down at the sunlit castle, trying to guess what had happened. She delighted in the warm light of the sun, glad that the Dementorsʼ cold that had haunted her in the night had disappeared and joy sweeping through her, though she tried to tell herself that this reaction was entirely baseless and unreasonable. She didnʼt know what had become of her sister or of Draco. But she couldnʼt help feeling better than not only in the night but during all the past months.

Just as she became conscious again of the cold that still rose from the grounds despite the warmth of the sun, she discerned a familiar, round silhouette strolling over to the greenhouses.

ʻThereʼs Professor Sprout,ʼ Astoria told the wolf. ʻShe looks all right doesnʼt she? Oh, that means that those in the castle are fine, how wonderful!ʼ

She fell around the wolfʼs neck. The animal didnʼt seem to enjoy this and shook its head irritably. Astoria laughed out loud. ʻIt was so nice to meet you, but now I think I can go over to the castle. Thank you!ʼ

She bent down to kiss the wolf, but it backed away and soon melted into the darkness of the forest. Astoria waved for some seconds, then she ran to the greenhouses, feeling so light and exultant that she could easily ignore her protesting heart.

ʻProfessor!ʼ she called as she stumbled into Greenhouse Three where Professor Sprout was shovelling earth into some new pots.

ʻAll herbs and beans, Miss Greengrass! You gave me quite a fright. What are you doing here?ʼ

Professor Sprout clutched her chest as Astoria skidded to a halt next to her.

ʻOh, Professor, it was so horrible. You know, when we were supposed to Disapparate and Pansy Parkinson! And then Daphne - oh, how is Daphne, have you seen her? Is she all right? Is everyone fine? Are you all right? Itʼs been such a horrid, horrid night! But I met such a nice wolf and it showed me - oh, I was in such a fright. What has happened?ʼ

Professor Sprout goggled at her. Finally she gently pushed her out of the greenhouse. ʻMuch has happened,ʼ she said in a soothing voice. ʻYou-Know-Who is dead. The Death Eaters are fleeing. We are all celebrating the outcome and mourning the dead. Now you best go up to the castle and calm down. I donʼt know what has happened to your sister, but maybe someone in the castle does. I have to repot several plants, but you need a bit of rest. Come into the Great Hall.ʼ

With these words she put a hand on Astoriaʼs back and led her up into the castle, listening patiently to the girlʼs more or less coherent tales and exclamations.


	7. In the Great Hall

_A/N Here we are, the last chapter! I've only proofread it once, but today was too tempting to put it up. I hope you like it nonetheless. Thanks a lot for reading. So, if you feel like it, leave a review please, like was Draco too likeable? Astoria too naïve? This whole story too pandering? I know it's rather boring, but that's who I am. Maybe I at least managed to put you to sleep ;)_

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Draco Malfoy stood in the aisle between the tables where everybody celebrated, his parents' arms around him. He looked down at his feet, not knowing what to feel and not wanting to see any of the looks of suspicion or amusement he imagined were cast at them.

'Do you think we should just go?' asked his mother to his father in a low voice.

'I don't know. Probably we should give ourselves up for capture, show some sign of cooperation?'

'Don't be ridiculous. We have been standing in the middle of the Hall ever since... then. If they wanted to throw us into prison, they would have done this by now.'

'So we just go home?'

'That's what I've been asking.'

'Probably we should tell someone we're going?'

'Whom?'

Draco tried to blend out his parents as their dialogue gave him the strange urge to laugh. His feet suddenly looked so ridiculous. Had they always looked so weird? He tried to move them into a normal position, but he kept finding them strange. Somehow they seemed to have forgotten what they usually did, for the longer he stared at them, the less natural they looked to him.

'Draco!'

The sudden cry that sounded so out of place, so delighted, made him raise his head, and before he could identify who had spoken, the girl was already hanging around his neck. More out of surprise than because of her modest weight, he stumbled backwards and collided on the bench before the table next to him. As the girl glided down to sit beside him, the sound of her voice together with the mass of light brown hair streaming down her back danced like parts of a puzzle before his inner eye, and though he knew that he knew who she was, his mind remained absolutely blank. Then, after she drew back her arms and took his hands in hers, she looked up and he remembered her grotesquely big blue eyes. He remembered the long hours he had spent down in that cellar with her, he remembered her quiet breathing, her warm good-byes, and most of all, he remembered how she had run away from him when they last met and he had decided to do anything in his power to enable her to marry him.

His first impulse was to make her an offer of marriage as she beamed up at him, but he recovered his senses in time to let them tell him how absurd this would be. He had wanted to be most prosperously situated to allow her to be comfortable. Now that he most likely had to go to prison, there was no chance he could make her an offer, not under such conditions. Instead he just stared at her face, for the first time near her in broad daylight and really taking in what she looked like. Her eyes that made up about half of her tiny face shone with joy right now as he had never seen her look. Her pale features that despite her childish appearance had usually seemed tired and belonging to a far older woman were likewise alight with glee. The delight on her face reminded him of the look of his mother when she had finally spotted him in the hall and run to him. Another thought crossed his mind.

'Astoria, what are you doing here?' he croaked.

Her smile faltered. 'You're not glad to see me?' she whispered in a defeated voice, drawing back her hands from his.

'Of course I am,' he whispered hastily, gripping her hands to hold her back. 'But you're not of age. Why aren't you at home?'

She looked down and he could only see the parting of her hair. 'Would you like me to go?' she murmured to their entwined hands.

'No!' he exclaimed, a bit too loudly. He quickly looked down at their hands too, scared of attracting attention. He lowered his voice as much as possible. 'I mean, if you want to go... but I am... very happy to see you.'

She looked up shyly. 'Really?'

'Really, really,' he said pressing her hands.

Her former look of joy lighted her features again, and obviously feeling none of his unease, she looked calmly around. Draco risked a furtive look at his parents and saw them both contemplating Astoria with, what appeared to him indecent, interest.

Someone sat down next to Astoria. 'You're Astoria, right?' asked the girl. Another swift glance informed Draco that this was Hannah Abbott.

'Yes,' Astoria said, sounding perfectly at ease, and started to prattle with increasing speed. 'You're Hannah, I know. Daisy always told me what a wonderful person you are. I hope she was safely Apparated out. Do you know?'

'No, dear,' said Hannah and Draco concentrated hard on his hands in Astoria's, certain to hear Hannah grin through her words. 'But I am certain she got safely away. There's Professor Slughorn over there, we can ask him. But tell me, why weren't _you_ Apparated out?'

As this had also been his question, he tried to follow the current of words that followed Hannah Abbott's question. He didn't get much more than that everything had been horrid, beginning from Pansy Parkinson, ending with the damp forest ground.

'And then I knew that Draco had stayed in the castle, but I didn't want to cause Daphne problems as Daphne has tried so hard to get me home. But I thought it was so brave of Draco to stay and fight. That was so courageous. Isn't Draco wonderfully brave?'

Draco felt heat rise in his face and he hunched together, waiting for Abbott's outburst of laughter. But she only said 'Of course, dear,' causing a new torrent of disconnected speech.

Someone started to shout. Astoria paused shortly and they all looked up. Thoroughly startled he saw Aunt Bellatrix yelling at his mother. But that was impossible. He had seen her dead body as it was carried out of the hall. Astoria had resumed her story, but Draco continued to stare, not understanding why nobody stopped his aunt and why his mother seemed to plead with her.

Draco blinked several times. As he kept staring at the screaming woman, she looked less and less like his aunt, the resemblance fading as she calmed down. Draco flinched and looked quickly down again at his and Astoria's hands. The woman might not be Aunt Bellatrix, but it had suddenly crossed his mind that she might very well be his aunt. Through all his childhood he had known both his aunts only from old pictures. He had been shocked when he had first met his aunt in real life because the haughty beauty he knew from photographs little resembled the distorted face that had returned from Azkaban. Of his mother's other sister he had known absolutely nothing and presumed she was dead. His father had always told him not to ask about her as it would embarrass his mother, and it had been Aunt Bella who told him what her sister had done to earn this damnatio memoriae.

'I think,' said Hannah slowly, startling Draco out of his reverie, 'that what you told me is very important. Do you know the man who led you into the forest?'

Draco glanced over to Astoria to see her shake her head violently. 'He always wore a mask,' she explained gravely. 'I only know he was rather tall.'

'Do you have an idea who he was, Draco?'

Draco flinched. 'No,' he said quickly. Then, after a short moment of deliberation, he added whispering, 'Probably Macnair?'

'Who else was with you?' continued Hannah, addressing Astoria again.

'Daphne!' Astoria made a short pause. 'And Helen Charlesworth, but I didn't know anyone else, they were all younger. Why is it important?'

'Because they forced students, some even under-age, to fight. Your testimony against Pansy Parkinson will be very important when the supporters of You-Know-Who will be tried.'

Draco quickly focused on his hands again, feeling Hannah's gaze lingering on him.

'Oh, I don't want to cause trouble,' said Astoria in a frightened tone. 'I suppose they had the best intentions. And just because it was horrible-'

'Don't worry, Astoria,' said Hannah soothingly. 'The new Minister for Magic is very competent, he'll handle this properly. And it is not right to force children to risk their lives.'

'Professor Snape wanted to send those who were not of age away,' pointed Astoria out with a serious expression on her face.

'Yes...' said Hannah hesitantly. 'Harry said something about-'

'Harry? Harry Potter? But he's dead! I've heard it when I was in the forest.'

'No, dear. Harry Potter is perfectly well. He killed You-Know-Who.'

'Oh.' Astoria was silent for a moment. 'I guess it's better this way.'

'I guess you're in a majority there,' answered Hannah and this time Draco could hear the amusement in her voice distinctly.

'What did you want to say about Professor Snape?' asked Astoria.

'Harry said something like-' Hannah started thoughtfully, '-like Professor Snape killed Professor Dumbledore only on his express demand. Didn't he?'

Hannah leant forward so that she appeared in Draco's limited view. He started at the sudden appeal. 'Yes,' he choked, keeping his eyes steadily on his hands. '"Snape never beat Dumbledore! Dumbledore's death was planned between them!" That's what he said.'

'It's quite something to swallow isn't it?' said Hannah almost absentmindedly, staring in front of her.

It was only then that Draco truly realised what he had said. Dumbledore had not been murdered. It was as if a heavy weight he didn't know he had been carrying were suddenly lifted from his shoulders. Yet, instead of straightening up, his body sagged together and he had to free a hand from Astoria's to lift it to his mouth, not able to tell whether he was about to cry, laugh, or vomit.

'Are you all right?'

Astoria had put a hand on his arm, and as he turned to her and saw her worried expression, he finally felt light and - strange as it seemed to himself - innocent.

'Absolutely,' he murmured hoarsely, taking her hands as if about to dance. She looked up to him with wide eyes and something in his breast expanded almost painfully-

CRACK!

Draco's head snapped towards the sound in shock, automatically letting go of Astoria as she flinched simultaneously. Before him stood an old house-elf with a snout for a nose, a locket hanging around his neck. Draco had the feeling he had seen him before, but before he could place him more accurately, he saw something that made his mouth fall open. The elf was carrying a wand, a clear breach of the Code of Wand Use. But far more shocking was the fact that the wand was his own, taken from him almost a month ago and used since then by Harry Potter.

'Master Harry says that the Malfoy boy can have his wand back,' croaked the elf, holding out the wand.

Draco stared at the elf, lifting his hand automatically to receive the wand that was extended towards him.

'Kreacher must bring Master Harry a sandwich,' croaked the elf as soon as he was rid of the wand and with another loud _crack_ he Disapparated.

Slowly Draco closed his hand around the wand, looking down at it. The wand gave him an odd feeling of familiarity and distance, but nevertheless it felt deliriously good to have it back.

'Why did Harry Potter have your wand?' asked Astoria curiously, taking his wand free hand in both of hers.

'I... lost it,' he mumbled, finally forcing himself to look up and search for his mother, feeling sudden unease as he remembered that he had not yet told her that her wand was ruined. But he couldn't see his mother anywhere, only his father remained standing over him. Draco quickly put the wand in his robes and took Astoria's hands again.

'That was a funny little elf, did you know him?' mused Astoria on.

Draco mumbled something indistinct, watching Professor McGonagall's feet approach his father.

'I wonder,' said Astoria, turning her head between Draco and Hannah, 'whether Mum and Dad know what's going on. They might be worried if they just hear rumours and don't know what happened with me or Daphne. Are you sure you don't know where Daphne is?'

'Wait a moment,' said Hannah. 'They have assembled some of the less dangerous individuals in the dungeons as a security measure. I'll go and check whether Daphne is there.'

Hannah got to her feet and walked away. Draco watched Astoria smile through the corner of his eye. He heard his father talking to Professor McGonagall in a low voice, and a glimpse showed him that his father was addressing her with unusual deference.

'I hope we're now rid of the Carrows,' said Astoria serenely.

'Certainly,' said Draco, almost shaking his head at her strange lack of perception concerning the future of the Death Eaters. He gulped internally, fearing his own fate. If he had to go to prison, Astoria would certainly forget him.

'It might be difficult to organise O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s. Hogwarts looks as if it needed some restoration. How are we to learn if they close the library?'

As this was Draco's least worry, he didn't know how to answer, but Professor McGonagall came to his rescue.

'This I have already discussed with the other teachers. We will close the school completely. Probably we will open again over the summer, probably only in September. We lack several teachers right now, and as you say, Hogwarts needs to be repaired. We have also several Muggle-born students who have not been able to attend their courses and some of the lessons were useless if not destructive this term. Therefore all students will be able to repeat their school year at least in parts. We also discuss making Muggle Studies compulsory next term to make up for the damage that has been caused this year.'

'But not with Professor Carrow?' asked Astoria anxiously.

Professor McGonagall stared at her for a second. 'Certainly not,' she said curtly, then she walked away.

'Probably Professor Burbage comes back from retirement,' chatted Astoria on. 'Daisy says she's very nice.'

'Professor Burbage-' said Draco, needing to cough as his voice cracked. 'She's dead.'

Astoria's eyes widened in shock. 'How horrid! Is she here?' She looked around in the hall.

'No, it's already some months past,' whispered Draco, yearning for a change of topic.

'Poor woman. She didn't have much of her retirement then,' exclaimed Astoria with sincere regret. 'Daphne!'

Draco sighed in relief as Daphne, a deep cut on her cheek, hastened up to them with Hannah and embraced her little sister, tearing Astoria's hand from him.

'Draco, we're going.'

Surprised, Draco looked up, while getting simultaneously to his feet, obeying his father's tone that was almost as imperious as it had once been.

'Oh, you're going?' said Astoria, half hidden behind her sister.

'Bye,' whispered Draco, half turning.

'Then I'll only see you next term. Will you write to me?'

Draco swallowed with some effort. 'If I can.'

His father marched him out of the hall, looking straight ahead. Draco only managed to glance back when they exited the Great Hall, seeing Astoria's eyes following him while she leant against her sister. Feeling slightly comforted, Draco hurried after his father out into the grounds.

'And Mother?' he finally dared to ask as they hastened towards the gates.

'She'll find the way back home on her own,' said his father, suddenly adding sharply, 'Who was that girl?'

'Astoria?' blurted Draco. 'Astoria Greengrass?'

'Greengrass,' repeated his father with a satisfied smile. Draco didn't know why his father's reaction made him feel slightly annoyed.

'What's going to happen to us?' he asked.

'Nothing if we are careful. We will cooperate. Your mother has already started it.'

'What's she done? You mean her talking to her sister?'

'That too.' His father was silent for a moment. 'She said he was dead.'

'Who?'

'Harry Potter.'

Confused, Draco didn't know what to ask at first. 'When did she say this?'

'After the Dark Lord had tried to kill him.'

Draco gaped at his father. 'You mean she... she lied to him? Mother? Why?'

'How should I know why she went mad all of a sudden,' said his father harshly, in a tone that clearly told him to hold his tongue.

'It wasn't such a bad time to go mad,' Draco dared to point out.

His father snorted but didn't say anything. Just then they reached the gates and his father came to an abrupt stop as soon as he had left the grounds. 'We Apparate home from here. There we are to remain for the present. That's what McGonagall said,' he explained shortly.

Draco nodded reluctantly. His father held out a hand, waiting for his son to take it. Draco hesitated. 'You know,' he whispered, 'I do think Astoria is right. I guess it's better this way.'

A vein in his father's temple twitched, but then his shoulders slumped together and his haughty mask fell off, making him look almost juvenile. 'I guess,' he repeated tonelessly.

Draco took his father's hand and turned on the spot.


End file.
